


A Day Out of the Norm

by preludedArtist



Series: What do they do? [1]
Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Also Kendrell husbands being cute mhm MHM, Drinking (but not so much since it's a socialite event), Implied Red/Sybil, Other, Smoking, Sybil serves some sick burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preludedArtist/pseuds/preludedArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Started out as a one shot. Then a two shot. Then nope. Centered around the Camerata when they're busy not plotting the accidental apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breakfast at Meelo's

**Author's Note:**

> Oh maaaaan. I had some decent stuff written in the summary/ notes but chrome crashed like 5 times and deleted everything and I suffer.
> 
> Starting this off with Kendrell husbands. Literally half of the first chapter is Kendrell husbands. There is an extreme lack of Kendrell husbands waking up in bed and being absolute dorks in the morning. Also ticklish Asher I mEAN
> 
> Also Sybil wants the Camerata as a group to stop being nerds and actually go to events.

Seasons were a whim in Cloudbank. It made sense for it to be sunny and hot with a 15mph breeze coming from the north and for the next day for there to be a wonderful winter wonderland. Today was one of those winter days... if winter was still a relevant term that had any meaning. That's at least something that Royce would say.

Grant had woken up first, feeling the chill in his usually warm bedroom. It's not like he had opened a window or anything the previous night. Why would he? He can control the temperature in his home just like anyone else in Cloudbank. It had been particularly hot last night so he had the air on a temperature cooler than usual.

"Grant," and he feels the other side of the bed stir underneath the thin sheets. " _Honey_. It's quite cold, isn't it?" His tone was anything but sweet.

Grants turns to lie onto his left side to find the voice that addressed him.

Asher was facing him, blanket brought up all the way to his nose. Due to the way Grant could feel the other's knees nearly against his hip, he assumed that the blond was curled up.

"Is it?" he answers, receiving what could have possibly been a nasty look. Asher sits up, deciding not to play this game and he tries to ignore the awful shiver that made the hairs on his arms jump up. Goodness, it was colder now that he didn't have the blanket's protection. He sluggishly swings one leg over the bed before doing so with his other.

Asher quietly hissed at the touch of the cold floor, taking a moment to stretch as he stood up. He feels as though he hadn't slept enough and it was most likely because it was quite early.

He paces to the window, peeking through the thick and patterned curtain. "Ah. It's snowing."

He tried to make himself sound indifferent but Grant knew him better.

Without another word Asher makes his way out of the dimmed bedroom. Grant doesn't even bother to follow, able to hear the quiet little beeps of numbers being dialed. In no less than a minute Asher returns, reaching behind him to lightly swing the door shut.

"I turned on the heater. I had figured it was the decent thing to do." and he climbs back into bed.

"Did you want me to do it?" Grant questions, propping himself up on an elbow. "You could have asked."

"It's alright. You know I'm not at my best in the mornings," Asher stays seated for a moment more before lying down onto his back.

Grant doesn't respond, knowing that the end of that sentence was not the end of his statement.

Asher continues. "Yesterday was hot, not to point out the obvious. Of course of course we can manipulate the temperature of comfort at home but nonetheless I find the drastic change quite unnecessary. I had to throw in my shirt in the washer during the middle of the day yesterday. I was working outside for a few hours and the heat had dampened my clothing to an uncomfortable extent. I don't understand who would want such a scalding day. Perhaps the snow is an outcome? A regret for the choice of weather from the previous day? I suppose- oh?"

His rant was interrupted when he had been pulled closer and oooh sometimes he forgets just how warm Grant can be. Practically a human radiator. He should have thought of this sooner.

"Radiators are old school," Asher teases. "Just old school. This is the result you wanted? I still would have turned on the heating if I hadn't already,"

Leaning forward Grant just presses a light kiss to his husband's cheek, beard scratching along skin. "I really don't see much of you complaining about some little old ideas. You are cold, aren't you?"

Asher just hums in agreement, shifting slightly in the other's hold to lie down more comfortably. He still felt a little cold, trying to curl into the heat that Grant's body provided. It was still quite early and sleep was still high priority. He exhales, shutting his eyes as his husband started to stroke his back.

Grant tries coaxing Asher back to sleep, moving a hand lightly around his back. He figures that the blond couldn't feel much of his comforting touch with that sweater on.

"Grant," Asher jolts in his spot, lightly smacking the other's chest. " _Please_ , your hand is cold."

"Is it? I just wanted to help you relax. You need rest."

"Of course I do. I was just about to get rest. I was about to get rest before ahhHH!"

Both of Grant's cold hands move against Asher's back, lightly running over the bare skin and making the smaller man jump and protest.

Asher presses himself closer to his husband, trying to inch himself as far away from those infuriatingly cold hands. When he had first met Grant he had not expected for him to be so mischievous. The Administrator, Asher discovered, had an abundance of tricks and plots up his sleeve. Now if only he could figure out when it was or wasn't appropriate to act playful.

"Give it a rest! Why are your hands ahh this cold ah-" Asher's useless protests gets interrupted by his own surprised laughter, Grant's cool fingertips now skimming along his sensitive sides. Asher barely minded the cold now, too caught up on being tickled and calling his husband terrible and ridiculous.

Grant pays no mind at all, finding amusement in the way Asher didn't filter his words or had no trouble giving him light flat-handed hits; those did not affect him at all whatsoever. The smaller man is left in helpless giggles, arms wrapped around himself in defense before eventually his "assailant" ceases the attacks.

"Alright alright. I'll let you catch up on sleep,"

"Oh?" Asher still sounds a little breathless but once more settles down, raising a hand to brush away his own ruffled up hair from his eyes. He lets out a quiet breath, his body relaxing on its own before he hears the sound of a "boop" come behind Grant.

"That's Sybil's ringtone. I could call her back later if you'd like," Grant offers, turning slightly and shifting a bit to reach behind him.

"No... no. It's Sybil. It would be easier to answer," Asher says and the other chuckles in response. He takes the device when Grant hands it to him, squinting at the lighting and tapping a finger onto Sybil's message. "Did we have plans with her today? It's almost ten."

Grant pauses in thought, absentmindedly messing with the collar of Asher's sweater. "Right. We have the breakfast. She had wanted to meet up today to speak with all of us. I highly doubt she expected the snow."

Asher lets out a sigh, stretching luxuriously and sitting up. "I suppose there's no point in lying around anymore. We'd have to get up to get ready later on."

"Perhaps if you were quicker getting dressed..." the older man trailed off, sounding quite jovial.

"You know I like to take my time getting ready," Asher murmurs, making an expression similar to a scolded child.

He snorts. "Come on, let's get up," Grant sits up to crack his joints, leaning over to press a kiss onto the other's cheek.

* * *

 “All these people walking outside. _Enjoying_ the weather.”

Grant turns his head when Asher spoke. And he laughs. “I do hope your face doesn’t get stuck that way.”

Asher drops the bitter expression. “I was making a face?”

Grant had decided to go to Sybil’s rendezvous by foot, finding no reason to fuss over vehicles.

The snow had started light in a light little flurry but had slowly began to fall with  a little more force.

No matter the weather condition the city of Cloudbank always remained impeccable and pretty. Especially now with the snow, the bright lights from the buildings and shops seemed to blend into the slight haze.

“You did bundle up enough, didn’t you?” Grant questions, mind going back to where he had watched the other put on at least three sweaters before putting on a coat. “Is your scarf on correctly? You could be getting some of the cold wind on your neck.”

“No no, the scarf is fine,” Asher answers through clenched teeth, letting out a sudden shiver. “I don’t think another sweater would have fit underneath my coat,”

Grant grins. “It wouldn’t have. You were always welcome to have borrowed one of mine.”

Asher snorts and lightly nudges the other. “You coats would fall right off of my shoulders you giant. Where are we going to meet Sybil?”

“She said at Meelo’s. I think it’s new to the area. Sybil’s most likely giving it some representation by just being there. You know how it is. Where Sybil goes, everyone goes,” Grant tugs on his husband’s hand to guide him into one of the tall buildings. “34th floor. We’ll need the elevators.”

“They’re over there,” Asher points after taking a moment to glance around. “I hope there aren’t too many people. I have no qualms with a crowd but I do prefer a quiet morning.”

They wait for the elevator, stepping in with ease when they go in as the only occupants. Feeling the wonderful wave of the heating the two of them remove their gloves and hats.

“Are you still cold?” Grant question, taking both of Asher’s hands into his own to warm them up. “Those gloves of yours really aren’t that effective”

Asher curls his hands into the other’s, leaning in a bit to press it against his (still cold) cheek and sighing. “I still feel chills but I am certain it’ll go away once we get a seat.”

“Your face is cold. You should have wrapped up your scarf higher,”

“I know how to wrap a scarf, dearest,”

“Oh?” He lightly pulls on Asher’s hands to be closer and to press his cheek against his. Asher was a nice 12 inches shorter, forcing Grant to have to bend his back just a little bit. “I wouldn’t want you to get ill.”

“That would be bothersome,” Asher suddenly huffs when he felt the other move against his cheek. “Grant, no, your _beard_ , Grant.”

And it became incredibly hard to speak. Asher is stuck between snickering and laughing, trying to move away from the other.

Grant has resorted to attack his husband’s cheek and neck with kisses, beard quite mercilessly scratching against the dark skin. He’s grinning even after Asher pried himself away.

“That facial hair of yours is a problem,” Asher teases, face flushed from their previous little scuffle. On the bright side, at least he wasn’t as cold anymore.

The elevator suddenly pings, notifying the two of them that they have reached their floor.

* * *

 "Ah! The two of you are here at last," Sybil stands as they neared the table she had specifically reserved... that morning. Not on purpose! What kind of planner would she be? She was planning to have the breakfast on one of the high terraces though the change of weather required for her to change the seating. She picked a small round table for four, one that was by a wall sized window.

Meelo's was a nice eating establishment dedicated to mainly serving breakfast goods and pastries. It's located on one of Cloudbank's highest platform. The interior was mainly bright hues of gold and light violet.

"Hello, Sybil. I apologize. Though according to the time we are a few minutes early," Grant greets in return, taking a seat with his back towards the window.

Asher sits to his right, seated across from Sybil.

"What kind of hostess would I be if I arrive right on time? It makes sense that I'm early. Especially from the drastic change of the weather! I had something nice to wear planned and everything. Are you alright?"

"It can't be helped," Asher agrees, sitting up quite stiffly as though trying to refrain from shivering. "Me?  Ah, yes, I'm fine. The short walk through the snow did not suit me well. I'll be fine after some coffee." he smiles apologetically.

Sybil mimics the smile in reaction, handing him one of the four menus and flipping to the third page. "Here are the different types of coffee. Perhaps this time you won't drink black and cream with two and a half sugars?"

"Perhaps," he hums, looking through menu and avoiding Grant's look.

He had drunken coffee before they left to come here yet Grant very much knew that Asher was capable of drinking more. Grant turns to look out the wide window behind him, observing with faint interest as the snow fell in quick flutters of white. Looking down to see the ground was useless; due to the height and the snowfall all one would see is a fog.

"Was Royce notified?"

Sybil glances up at Grant from her slick tablet, tapping the screen without looking down at it. "Yes. He answered the call this morning but he didn't say when he'd get here. He's always fashionably late without attempt."

"Fashionably late is a nice way to word it," Grant replies and Sybil smirks. Grant takes off his coat, wearing a sweater underneath it.

"Oh dear. You know, not many people look good in beige," Sybil criticizes and Grant just waves her off without a care. With a huff she gives him his menu before she shrugs off her fluffy white coat, revealing a casual yet elegant black dress.

Asher makes a noise, glancing up from his menu. "In this weather?" he almost sounds surprised.

"I was wearing a coat. And I must look good for the public. Paparazzi, you know. I have planned the most extravagant parties after all."

"Your shoulders are bare."

"Oh, Asher, don't you understand fashion?"

The three of them settle down afterwards, ordering breakfast food when the time to order came. They eat comfortably in silence, Sybil tapping away at her virtual planner, Grant and Asher reading different things with their own tablets.

"There's an event I have today. I can bring guests. Are any of you interested?" Sybil breaks the silence, dipping the food on her fork into a sauce before taking a bite  out of it.

Asher glanced at Grant. And then at the window. "Will it be outside? In this weather?"

"A little snow doesn't hurt anyone, Asher," she practically purrs in return, “Some of it will be outside and some of it will be inside. You can be in both or either when you please.”

“Is it okay if we are all seen together? The four of us? We don’t have much in common. Why would we all be together? Wouldn’t that be strange?”

“Not if you two go as a couple. The both of you haven’t gone to any events as a couple. How long have you been married? Oh, this is unacceptable. You both will be going.”

Grant sets his tablet down, leaning forward and taking a bite of sunny-side up from his fork. “Well, there is not a chance that we’d survive disagreeing with a lady’s charm. Asher, my dear, would you like to go? It would be fine.”

Asher takes a moment to think, taking a sip from his coffee cup. It’s not that he didn’t want to go. He only felt uneasy and determined not to ruin things; after all he is the most recent member of the Camerata. “Alright. But I’m not going to go outside.”

“That’s fair. Why don’t you take off your coat, are you still cold?” Grant stands and leans down to help out Asher with his coat.

“Wonderful. Asher perhaps you could write about my party?” Sybil suggests, though mainly to tease him, and she laughs as she watches him try to come up with a reason to turn down the offer. “I kid, I kid,” she says with a wave of her hand, left in a cheery mood as she once more starts to tap away on her tablet. She doesn’t say anything about Asher’s sweater, a little thankful that it at least didn’t clash with his scarf.

“The event is quite upper so I suggest you two go out and get yourselves something nice. Preferably blue: that’s the theme. Asher if you’re going to wear that scarf then I suggest a navy blue for you. Hm, Grant, try to match with him. A red tie for you maybe. I’ll send a request to the same tailor I’ll be picking up my dress from. It’s too soon to be made from scratch but I am positive that Giles wouldn’t mind at all to suit you both up with something he had previously made. I’ll contact him right now so he can be ready,”

“Ah, Sybil. What is the event for?” Asher asked, ignoring the way Grant had very easily pulled his chair over to his own to have them sit closer to each other. Feeling the weight of his husband’s arm around his shoulders Asher complies and leans against him. “You said the attire is blue?”

Sybil taps on her tablet, flawlessly moving her hand around the screen. “Oh, it’s mainly industries looking for talents. I’ve organized a program like it a week or so ago but this one will be much better. Watching their performance is optional so you have the entire estate to wander as you please. You don’t have to wear blue but I’m wearing blue and I thought it’d be fun to match up,”

She continues before Grant could interrupt, waving her hand quickly. “More people will be wearing blue, don’t you worry, we won’t be the only ones. Just let me have fun with the idea of being in a secret and organized group,”

“That is what we are, isn’t it?”

The three of them pause to see who had just sat down to join them.

“Oh, how do you do it? Not too early not too late,” Sybil sighs, giving him a quick once over and tapping something onto her screen. “How do you manage to be so perfectly late, Royce?”

“Wonderful of you to join us,” Grant greets with a little nod. The way he says it isn’t sarcastic.

Asher shifts slightly, reaching over to pass Royce one of the menus. “I’m assuming you didn’t oversleep.”

Royce takes the menu, skimming over it briefly. “You’d be right on your assumption. Absolutely right. I was not paying attention at all and missed the first few of Sybil’s messages. Looked at it a little late. _Just_ a little bit late."

“You haven’t missed much, you’re fine,” Sybil is a very forgivable woman. She leans closer to him in her seat, tapping onto the digital menu that he held and opening up to a page. “Here, this seems more suiting for you. Oh and Royce we’re all passing through Giles after this. You need to get a suit fitted.”

“I do?” he questions, mumbling the words on the menu to himself. “I suppose I do. I don’t see myself needing to get fitted as I do not, well ah, go out to places that require suits. Fairview is not as involved as the city,” and his voice trailed off as he tapped on the screen of the menu to finally get something ordered. “Am I being invited somewhere?”

“Yes. There’s an event tonight and I’m bringing guests. None of you go out, really. It’s so shameful.” Sybil replies. She frowns irritably when she was ignored by Grant and Asher who were quite occupied in a hushed conversation of their own.

“Well, I’m not actually saying that going out is pointless but uh it is a little... pointless. Especially since I left the city to focus on my work. My other work.”

“Royce.  _Royce_.”

He glances up at her, eyes wide and brows furrowed with unblemished curiosity. “Yes?”

“Just go out for one night. I know the work you have is important, but I bet that you have stayed up countless nights and hours doing it is what you’re doing. Is spending the day with us really going to throw you off?”

“To be honest, completely honest…. not working for one night will not throw me off my game. I have exhausted myself, Sybil. Go ahead, let’s go for it. We can go for it. Ahhh. juuust. Don’t expect me to get along well with all those other socialites,”

Sybil grinned and finished tapping up her screen before setting down her tablet. “So what is it you’re working on? Our project?”

Food and a mug of coffee was brought over to Royce, set in front of him. Royce unbuttons the coat he wore, setting it down on the floor. He’s wearing a light gray turtleneck. “Yes. What else would it be? What else could be? Besides uh...m confidential? Or inappropriate to speak about in a public place?"

Sybil parts her lips and purses them again. There were times where Royce simply knocks her off her pedestal. He’s horribly blunt and sometimes thinks too much while also not thinking at all before speaking. “You give me such a headache,” she sighs, resting her cheek on her fist. “But I am glad that you agreed to come with us.”

“Of course, of course,” he nods, looking around the area of the restaurant, most likely taking in and observing every little detail.

Royce didn’t look like he’d be speaking more, though, with him things just suddenly came to be spontaneous.

It leaves Sybil itching to make conversation. Sure sure the four of them had each met up previously, separately and mainly for business. When was the last time they had all grouped up?

“Grant? Mind us two coming over after Giles?” She asks sweetly and Royce gives her a questioning look.

“You don’t have to ask,” He answers, looking at her with a raised before going back to adjusting his husband’s sleeve. “Would that be alright with you, dear?”

Asher nods, arm raised as he let Grant do whatever it was he was doing to his sweater. “We left our place pretty clean. It isn’t hard to do so. Is this to discuss the project?”

“Yes and no,” Sybil replies, looking quite satisfied. “There isn’t anything wrong with a group of business partners, friends, having a nice day as a party of four.”

He sits up, though, doesn’t get too far away from Grant’s side. “In that case then I see nothing wrong with a visit. It has been some time, hasn’t it?”

“Yes yes yes,” she smacks the table with each repetition of the word.  “You completely understand. If only the others could have your open mind. Without any offense.”

“Like you give a damn about offense?”

“Never say I don’t think about others,”


	2. Suiting up at Gile's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sybil successfully takes the boys to Gile's to get them all measured for suits for them to wear at her planned event that night. Afterwards they all head on over to the Kendrell's home to have some quiet time (as much quiet time a a group of four adults who occasionally forget to act like adults can be)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard and awkward to write because it's not a lot of action. It's sort of that "in between" thing but nonetheless if it's a chapter then it's still important to the story eue
> 
> (Still working on how to portray Royce because damn)
> 
> Also  
> I know no one might read it as this way but  
> No intentional Royce/Sybil relationship going on here and I'm sorry if it does seem that way.
> 
> Please let me be happy with the thought of Royce and Sybil totally being bros.  
> I like the thought the the four of them could all be bros but hey those two specifically.

“Hold your arms out. Like an intersection,”

Royce does as told, not even having to be told to stand straight. He doesn’t obsess over his posture but it just works out naturally for him.

Giles measures his chest and Royce glances down, watching the tape wrap around him and squeeze. Perhaps to get an accurate measure.

He glances over to the other two men, watching Grant and Asher also go through a similar measuring process.

“Hold out your arm.” Giles advises, holding his own out in front of him so the other could mimic him.

Royce reaches out, watching the elder man measure him from his shoulder to the cuff of his wrist. He briefly wonders why Sybil wasn’t here to give her input, he knows she’d love to, but he figures she must be trying on the gown that was made for her. No doubt her sense of style wouldn’t be disappointing to the public.

“Keep you legs apart; I’d hate to get the make the sleeve too short.”

Royce does so, trying to stand as still as possible but _god_ this measuring thing was endless.

He glances once more at Grant and Asher, unable to make out their conversation. Those two are always _always_ having some conversation between the two of them. Royce supposes it’s a husband thing?

“All done. You may have a seat while I look for a suit fitting for you”

Giles was a kind old man, eyes squinted while he worked. One would think he was incapable of reading all those small numbers but sometimes those who are underestimated are the ones who end up the most surprising.

“Ah, yes, thank you.” Royce blinks out of his thoughts but finds Giles already out of sight. He pulls out his tablet, unable to stand being empty handed for so long as he made his way to the many chairs.

There was an abundance of other people here, too. Most likely to pick up their suits or dresses considering how quickly they came in and left.

He picks an area that was relatively empty, staring down at his tablet as he struggled to find a way to keep busy. Checking on his work here would just be stupid. _Tremendously_ stupid. He also doesn’t find much entertainment in gaming applications or social media.

Royce crosses a leg over the other, setting his tablet into his bag and crossing his arms. There’s less people than there had been a few minutes ago. The chatter, however, wasn’t any different.

“Mr. Bracket?”

Royce turns his head when addressed, standing up when he was beckoned.

“I found something that fits the closest with your measurements. The sleeves may be too long but if you try it on I could pin down what I can alter,” Giles offers him a bag and Royce takes it, heading off to the dressing rooms.

The suit was white, surprisingly, considering that Sybil had been talking about blues and reds back at Meelo’s.

Royce strips himself of his turtleneck and lets out a slight shiver, bringing his arms close to his chest to keep in the heat. It’s a lot colder outside than it was in Gile’s store yet the air conditioning was still working full force (despite the snowy weather.)

He slips on a dark blue dress shirt provided for him before removing his pants to pull on the white slacks. He glances at the mirror, briefly wondering if he needs to tuck in the dress shirt before deciding to do so later. It made sense. It did make sense, right?

Royce puts on the white blazer and his nimble fingers exhausted by constant typing quickly buttons it up with no difficulty.

Huh.

Suiting up like this is a little bit _weird_ , he couldn’t help but think.

He steps out, looking around to see if any one of the three he came here with were nearby.

This suit wasn’t bad at all; he hasn’t really considered an entirely white attire. Royce isn’t often mindful of what he wears considering he works from the comfort of home or solitude. He fixes his cuff slightly, finding it a little tight and undoing the buttons. Was he suppose to tell Giles about this? He said he would adjust any slight issue with the suit. Royce starts to fidget and almost like a blessing he hears his name get called.

“Sybil,” he answers, turning around to face her.

She’s wearing what she had on earlier at the breakfast today, already having had tried on her custom dress. She’s holding the fancy bag in one arm, looking quite pleased with herself.

“A perfect fit, just as I had hoped. I can’t wait to show it off, everyone will love it,” She practically sings, swinging her bag with emphasis.

“You’re going to leave it as a surprise?” Royce asks, not really at all phased by her taunts. He pauses. “Of course you are, Sybil, of course.”

“Are you worried we won’t all match?” she teases, placing her bag down and walking right up to him. “Wasn’t this already buttoned for you? Is it too tight?” She holds his wrist, fiddling around with the cuff of his sleeve. “I’ll tell Giles to fix it up for you. Is there anything else that needs to be altered?”

Sybil steps back, finally getting a good look at him to judge him completely. “You look good. It’s a little tight around your waist, isn’t it? Or does it feel alright?” she tugs on his dress shirt. “Tuck this in, would you? Overall, this is a good pick. You’re welcome,”

“I can take this off now?” Royce suggests, facing one of the many mirrors and brushing himself off from all the fuss. Then he notices Sybil’s look. “Oh what whaaat could it be?”

“It’s a little unruly- oh no. I rather leave your hair that way. Styling it or tying it back would make you look like you’re mimicking Grant.” She makes a face.

Royce couldn’t help but crack a grin. “You are absolutely ruthless. I’m going to change out of this,” and he moves to go into the dressing room.

“My my,” Grant’s voice was heard from the end of the hallway. “You look dashing. Perhaps you should have suits tailored more often?”

Royce looks back with an expression that pretty much reads _who are **you** kidding_?

Grant was dressed with a black blazer and dark blue slacks. His tie was a bright red and his dress shirt was white. Asher came up next to him with a navy blue suit, dress shirt white with his bright red scarf as his only accessory.

Sybil must have been quite keen on matching the husbands up, making it quite obvious the two were a couple.

“Oh, you two are adorable!” Sybil gushes, looking very pleased in herself.” I had Giles mix and match here and there to get a good result. How is it fitting you?”

Asher adjusts his collar, brushing back his hair. “The dress shirt is a little too loose but I can just use one of the white ones I have back home. Aside from that you did fine suggesting these,”

“Your taste is exquisite, as usual,” Grant compliments and Sybil is practically glowing from the constant praise.

“Oh, no it was nothing,” she waves a hand, trying her best to look modest. “The three of you stand together. I have to document this. Come on come on,”

Sybil ushers them next to one another, placing Asher in between the two taller men. “Smile please,”

With a grin, Grant wrapped his arm around Asher at the last minute, causing the shorter man to smile genuinely. Royce stood straight, posture perfect as usual, arms behind his back.

Sybil takes several pictures with her tablet, looking down and swiping through the pictures. “Come and see,” she offers, prancing over to all of them and standing right in front so they could peer over her shoulder. “Dear Royce! Your gaze could have punctured my camera!”

Royce rolls his eyes, already too accustomed to her teasing. “You wouldn’t care. You have a new one every time I see you.” Sybil flushes and uses her device to hit him on the arm. He had to raise his hand to smother a chuckle. “ _Well_ I hadn’t really meant for that to be offensive. Not even a little bit. Do you feel guilty?”

From her second hit it turns out she did not feel guilty at all.

“I’m going to change out of these,” Grant announces, gesturing to his suit and reaching out to hold Asher’s hand. “Who do we give this to?”

“Give it to Giles, he’ll iron it for you,” Sybil informs as she fixed his tie at the last minute. “Tell him to send it up to your place. We can all get ready there,”

* * *

 

“The heating is the best invention,” Asher sighs, removing his coat and setting it inside his hallway closet.

The four had walked through the snow to the Kendrell’s home. It hadn’t taken long; Giles was much closer than Meelo’s. The snow at that point had weakened to slow little flutters. It was barely visible unless one was really trying to spot them. It was still quite cold out but luckily the wind had eased off. Perhaps the weather was going to be a little more tolerable once the night set in.

“Something warm might do us good,” Grant offers, looking through one of the cabinets.

“Dear, change out of those. I’ll take care of brewing,” Asher interjects, lightly bumping his hip against his husband to make him step aside. “I’m going to make coffee.” How many cups has he drunk today? “Would you two like to change into something else? We can dry off your clothes in the dryer.”

Sybil hangs up her coat, unable to help but shudder afterwards. “Oh, Asher that would be wonderful. I’d feel stupid if I got sick for my own planned event. Royce, honey, I’m sure they have something for you, too.”

“Maybe Grant’s clothing will be too big. You don’t mind wearing sweatpants, do you?” Asher looks over at Royce as he asked, tilting his head as he tried to measure whether the other’s waist was closer to his or Grant’s. “Grant’s changing right now. You know where our room is, ask him to let you try something on,”

Royce nods, removing his coat and hanging it up. It falls. He doesn’t pick it up and Sybil grins at Asher’s expression.

“He never picks up,” She shrugs, rubbing her bare shoulder and walking over to help Asher out. “I’m going to make tea, if you don’t mind. I want something to help me relax a little bit,”

“That’s fine,” he nods, opening the cabinet and letting her have the pick for which tea to make.

“We have some things you can borrow, too. If you don’t mind sweatpants and t-shirts,”

“Yes, that sounds nice. If you were right about one thing it would be that this dress certainly isn’t good for cold weather.” she leaves the pot brewing, waiting for Asher to be leave his. “That doesn’t mean you know fashion. I still looked very nice today,”

“And?” he somehow knows she wasn’t that.

“Oh, _Asher_ you have to help him.  He wore beige. Usually people don’t try to look their age. I was suffering,”

Asher leaves his coffee pot brewing and waves her over so that she could follow him. “You should give him some advice then,” he plays along. “I happen to like how he looks.”

“He doesn’t listen. Doesn’t care at all! I ought to have a serious word with him. But Asher at least _you_  have decent taste. Somewhat. Red is a good color. Red looks good on a lot of people. You two should match much more often,”

Asher lets Sybil ramble off, knowing that it was one of her tactics to lose some of her pent up energy. Needless to say once she starts there is no stopping her.

He knocks on his bedroom door. “We can come in?”

“Yes. We’re nearly done,” Grant calls out before continuing his conversation with Royce.

Upon entering the room the two were still changing. Royce was pulling on a sweater, nearly a perfect fit but slightly baggy. Definitely one of Grant’s clothing.

“What are you two discussing?” Sybil questions, taking her seat on top of the bed.

Royce parts his lips to answer but he sees her still eyeing Grant. Oh boy.

“Oh, look that looks much better. Your beige and green combination from today gave you the unnecessary air of a houseplant aesthetic,” her smile is one of an angel’s.

Asher looks up at Royce in surprise and the two men end up snickering and almost snorting at Sybil’s lash.

She jolts when she finds that Grant has thrown the beige sweater right at her.

“Let me live,” he chuckles, not at all taking any of what she says to heart. “I laid out some of Asher’s clothing for the both of you,”

“Thank you, dearest,” Asher responds, already removing one of his many sweaters. “Sybil, try this one on. You wanted something with short sleeves?” and she nods.

“Could you unzip?” She asks, turning around to let Asher unzip her dress. She slides it off, holding her hand out for a hamper and smoothly setting inside the dress. “This shirt?” she asks, putting one on once getting approval. “Oh- Asher the pots. I’ll go check on the,” she offers, grabbing the sweatpants laid out for her and quickly leaving the room.

Grants lets his hair loose for a short moment, mainly to redo it a little tighter.

“So,” Asher breaks the silence, strangely missing Sybil’s chatter. “What were you two talking about?” He gestures to Royce.

“We’ll discuss it after the four of us settle down, dearest,” Grant reassures, walking over to him and placing a hand on the small of his back to lead him out of the room.

Royce was about to follow before he realized oh he wasn’t done changing. Goodness his mind sure goes to far away places.

* * *

 

“I haven’t gotten control of the process yet, but I did find out how to program them,”  Royce explains, back straight and leg crossed over his other. Posture perfect as always.

Sybil sits next to him, legs resting on the couch. She wears a braid to keep to her thick hair of the way. Grant and Asher have huddled up with one another on the couch next to the other two. “It’s taken me days. So many days. I was nearly at my wits end. I figured patience was the best way to go at it, it seemed logical at the time... clearly. Of course, now I have to clean up my laboratory and-”

“Oh, honey, did you lose your temper?” Sybil questions, taking a slow sip of her tea.

“No. Yes. Very much so. It- it’s alright now,” he makes a gesture before quietly clasping his hands together. “I missed something. One of those tiny _tiiiiny_ things that can change the result of this part of the project. I would have liked not to have wasted that much time deciphering something that instead of hours took me days to solve.

“I have the blueprint. All that time I used up led me to something I wasn’t looking for. Straight to something I wasn’t looking for. Right to the blueprints and oh _oh_ it’s exquisite. The process each have the same codes but I have discovered that.. theyyy..” Royce trails off to get his train of thoughts back in order. “Can mutate. The process has the programming to upgrade or mutate all on their own. Of course they need permission. As of now they, ah... they aren’t given the ‘okay’ to do so. Perhaps _perhaps_ it’s an unfinished part of their development but to have the blueprints and coding at my whim it’s… very _very_  progressive,”

“That’s so good!” Sybil practically jumps in her seat, leaning forward with captured interest.

“It is fantastic,” he agrees with a grin, finally leaning back to rest his back against the couch cushion.

Grant very much looks quite eager himself, pulling that arm holding Asher much closer to him in an excited embrace. “Royce, this can give us so much progress. I don’t think I can even start to list it off.”

“We can make them bigger!” Sybil gasps. “Those tiny things couldn’t possibly remake Cloudbank on their own. They can join up with others and to create stronger and modified upgrades of themselves.”

Asher holds up a hand. “And to control them? We would need multiple sources to get the signal across. There’s too many of them and they would be spread out all over the city.”

“You are correct,” Royce nods, having had considered the idea. “I was thinking of planning out more than one source. Something portable. Something… something the four of us could wield individually, but together,”

Sybil looks delighted and Asher certainly looked interested. Grant nods in approval, giving Asher’s arm an endearing little squeeze.

Suddenly there’s the sound of a loud jingle.

“My apologies. It’s my tablet,” Sybil stands up gingerly, making sure her teacup doesn’t slip out of her hands, and quickly makes her way to the kitchen (where her coat hung.) “Ah!”

The three men all swiveled their head towards her, mainly in question.

“The event is in two hours. I think it’s time that we all get ready?” She looks a little smug, hands on her hips. She undos her braid, clipping back any stray hairs so that it’d be easier to apply make up.

“You heard the woman,” Grant stands up and offers a hand to Asher, who takes it and pulling himself up. “We have an event to get ready for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk If having the four of them change in the same room was strange to anyone but shhh totally bffs. 
> 
> Sexuality Headcannons I have are:
> 
> Royce: Aromantic Asexual (didn't come up with this myself but considering that I have seen it a lot it's really stuck to me)  
> Sybil: Homoromantic Bisexual  
> Grant: Homosexual/ Homoromantic (maybe biromantic)  
> Asher: Bisexual 
> 
> So honestly I figured they would all be fine with changing in the same room (two of them are married so I mean)


	3. Public Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four finally attend the event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this like two hours earlier than I have scheduled but that doesn't really matter tbh. In all honesty this was the funnest chapter to write and that's probably because I really really really like to write from Sybil's perspective (everyone gets a chance on this chapter though shh)
> 
> Also like  
> Royce and Sybil everything is platonic! Like I stated in the last chapter please let me pretend that the two of them could totally get along nicely and be bffsies.

“Have a good time!” Sybil greets one of the many guests, fluttering her fingertips as she waved them off. The snow had picked up and many people were already inside the public manor.

The four of them were not late, in fact, with her obsession for being fashionably late she had bestowed the time of departing on Royce. She _had_ always stated her envy of his ability to arrive perfectly late.

“This is amazing timing.” Sybil beams at him as she stepped out of the vehicle, briefly taking his hand to be pulled and avoid slipping on the ice.

Asher steps out behind her, using a hand to hold his scarf closer to his chin and using the other to help Grant get out.

Sybil briefly takes out her tablet, typing for a short moment and at one final click the automatic vehicle drives away to park itself.

“I want to go inside.” Asher immediately states, looking for warmth and standing close to Grant. Their arms are hooked with each other’s, little flakes of snow already clinging to their dark attire.

“Yes yes, I hadn’t forgotten.” Sybil reassures. She greets more people with a charming little wave, greeting recently arriving guests by name and with a smile. It leaves the three men behind her to wonder how the hell she can do this and not look exhausted.

“What are our plans?” Grant questions between the three the them, all following Sybil to the large front gate.

“Do you think Sybil wants us to talk to the guests?” was Asher’s main conflict. Interviews? Oh, yes, he’s fine. But speaking at a social event? Well...

“Most likely. I believe she is planning to introduce us all. Conversation would be unavoidable."

“Perhaps not,” Royce interjects, wide and green eyes taking in their setting. “This is a very big place, if I’m not mistaken. I don’t doubt that many of the rooms could be filled with many _many_ of the guests here but I- I am quite sure that there are rooms we could have to ourselves, separately.”

Asher gives him a questioning look. “Seperately?” Grant asks.

Royce nods as though it were obvious. “Yes.”

There’s a short period of silence.

“You want me to elaborate?”

Another silence.

“The more of us there are, the more chances there are that the party attendees will look for conversation. As a smaller group it is much easier to avoid it. That’s what we want, isn’t it? It’s exactly what we want. Upon entry I.. ah.. will be taking my own route.”

“Sybil isn’t going to be enthusiastic about that,” Asher warns. “Over all, you’re right about group sizes.”

“The smaller the better.” Grant murmurs in agreement, using a hand to smooth down his husband’s hair.

Sybil’s voice could be heard over the chatter. “What are the the three of you plotting?” her arms are crossed, mainly to fend off against the sudden cold chill of snowy wind. “All of you are walking unbearably slow. We should be going in by now.”

The public manor the event was happening in was undeniably large. It wasn’t one of the skyscraper buildings where it was all about slimness and height. The manor wasn’t as tall, perhaps forty-five or forty-six stories, but it certainly took up many acres.

No one lived in the public manor. It was a beautiful structure made for events and socialite meetings. It was never empty no matter what time of day.

“Alright, the event will be taking place on floors twenty-nine through thirty-six. If you stray to another floor just go back in the elevator and figure it out. Try to stick with me at least for the first few minutes before you all decide to explore.” Her gaze is suspicious.

Had they underestimated her? Most likely. Then again it was easy to figure out that three grown antisocial men were going to do their all to avoid being in the crowd.

* * *

Once they’re inside their coats and accessories are taken to be put away. Sybil, of course, is chatting away with people she’s known or never met before. Her gown is sleeveless, colored a dark blue adorned and a few strips of white. Her gloves are elegant, going up to her wrist, a bright red like the color of her pearl jewelry.

“Ah, Sybil!” greeted a short and large man. His suit is a bright green, a belt buckle with a large square right in the middle. “S’lookin great so far! I owe you for booking the Manor in such short notice,” He glances up, expression friendly. “Are these your guests?”

“Oh it wasn’t too much of a task,” Sybil brushes back some of her hair behind her ear. “Yes, these are my guests. Welsun, this is Grant, Royce and Asher.” she gestures.

“Ah, of course the administrator,” Welsun shakes Grant’s hand with a firm grasp. He greets the other two with the same enthusiasm. “I didn’t think you would be one to go to such events.”

Sybil butts in, seeming to have every dialogue plotted in her head.

“Mr. Kendrell just wanted an opportunity to go to an event as a pair. Isn’t that right?” She smiles too politely at them. Definitely a smile that read _if you don’t go along with it then the hell with it all._

Grant clears his throat but Asher speaks first, deciding to aid his husband with an excuse. He is a writer after all: facts, of course. But he’s sure he can come up with something. “I was aware Grant was a man dedicated to his privacy but in the end we both decided that coming out to a public event now would make sense then later.” His smile is incredibly charming.

Welsun was satisfied by that answer. He then notices a man dressed in white. “How about you? Royce, was it?”

“Yes.”

There is an awkward pause and Sybil ends up giving Royce a squinty-eyed look from behind Welsun’s back.

“That… is me,” He ends up continuing, unaware of his own intense gaze. What else could he say? He was addressed and so he answered. He hates this.

“Ah, Welsun, I think there are people over there that have been calling for your attention for a while,” Sybil places a hand on his shoulder, smiling politely as she pointed her finger towards somewhere in the crowd before leading him away.

The three men were left feeling uncomfortable after the encounter.

Grant clasps Royce’s shoulder, causing the younger man to give him a look.

“You’re not to blame. That Welsun fellow doesn’t seem to be able to keep a conversation going,” Grants reassures.

Royce spares a smile, finding the situation overall to be stupid. “I didn’t mind. I don’t think I could have lasted another minute with him.”

“Don’t exaggerate, I don’t think he was that awful.” Asher shrugs, only to be assaulted by Grant’s beard rubbing against his cheek.

“Aren’t you such a charmer?” Grant teases, holding his husband close by the waist. “Speaking for me, hm?”

Asher moves his head out of the way, raising his hand for defense. “It drove Welsun’s attention away from us, didn’t it?” he’s grinning, nonetheless.

“I’ll be on my way,” Royce announces, pointing to the elevators. He decides to venture through seven floors in search of some place remotely quiet and suffering less PDA.

“We made him run off,” Grants says, have the tone of mock surprise.

“ _You_ made him run off,” Asher defends himself, hand going down to hold the other’s.

* * *

Sybil is takes her seat right in the front with the many talent scouts. Finally, the actual purpose of the night’s event. Out of all the people invited perhaps only an eighth of them were attending this portion; it wasn’t a requirement but it sure it nice to suppose those seeking managers.

Several weeks ago Sybil organized an event much much smaller than this, purely just for new upcoming talents to be picked upon others.

Sybil remembers that out of the 500 hundred only 150 had gotten in for tonight’s event. Well deserving, too. In her opinion only the best could proceed. However she couldn’t give more than a damn about these performances.

She waits patiently as each performance went by, certainly waiting for one in particular.

A woman then walks onto the small stage, wearing a long mint green dress that trailed behind her. Upon walking into the bright stage lights her jewelry, diamonds and silvers, gleamed. She walks with confidence and grace, standing in front of the microphone and bringing a hand up to grasp its neck. Her bright red hair, beautiful against her pale complexion, shifts slightly as she turns her head to coyly look at the speaker for an introduction.

Sybil sits up; pays attention. She doesn’t hear the usual tap of shoes. Not wearing heels again?

“The next talent is Red. Twenty-seven years old and described with the voice of an angel.” The announcer puts the list she was reading off of down, gesturing at “Red” to begin.

There was the sound of an acoustic guitar, a few beats, and she begins to sing. Her voice is husky, low but at a perfect octave at the same time.

She removes the microphone from it’s stand and wraps the cord around her finger.

The guitar picks up and song comes from her lips like nothing, as though she could do this in her sleep. Red breathes in air and exhales a song worthy of being marked in Cloudbank history.

That’s what Sybil thinks. It’s what she feels.

This is the second time she’s lucky enough to hear that wonderful singing voice. The first time time it had been an accident.

_At the previous event, she had elsewhere to go, having had scheduled perhaps two or three too many plans for that day._

_She definitely got held back, lured in by the humming coming from backstage._

_What Sybil hadn’t expected was a gorgeous tall woman, radiant in every way to be the owner of such a voice._

_She had decided to stay, curious as to what that pretty voice could do when it was being used properly. She was so glad she did._

Sybil blinks out of her memory, brought back by the intensity of Red’s voice.

And then it was over.

Sybil stands in applause, earning a surprised and pleased look from the singer’s face. The regular party guests stands from their seats, taking Sybil’s example and applauding.

Red ends up grinning, giving Sybil a thankful little wave and walking off the stage.

The applauds settle down and Sybil is left with a fluster.

* * *

Royce is standing facing one of the many large windows, tablet at hand as he checked on how his work was doing back at Fairview.

“43%” he murmurs under his breath, the small device hidden from view as soon as he heard a chattering group walk by. He gazes at the city in the meantime, champagne glass at hand but no no he doesn’t drink it. He isn’t much of a celebratory man. Not after the four glasses he’s already gone through without much notice. “Still forty-three.”

Royce shifts his weight onto one foot, swishing the glass as he put his other hand in his pocket. He couldn’t get messy. Sybil would most likely not be pleased if he spilled champagne onto his suit. It's not like he had asked for it to be white. He rolls his eyes then. Why is he even thinking about something so meaningless?

With a defeated look Royce finally takes a sip from the glass, resting his forehead against the cool window and glancing down. They were so high up the ground couldn't be seen from this height. That wasn’t rare at all no no he thinks. The snow added an extra haze… or perhaps that was the champagne.

All the bright colors, the chatter, the nonstop music… Cloudbank was so depressing. So so depressing. Royce shuts his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again he’s sitting down, fingertips rubbing at his temple. He doesn't remember walking over to the lounges or chairs but he’s vaguely thankful he did. Every room is too hot all of a sudden.

Goddamn what he would do for a cigarette right now.

* * *

“I was surprised when you stood up. I hadn’t expected at all to get that reaction.”

“Oh, no dear, you deserve it.” Sybil insists, arms crossed over her chest as she looked up at the taller woman.

“Really?” Red tucks her hair back with a hand before picking up some finger food and having a taste. “This event and all the rented floors is so big for just an audition.”

“You think so? Perhaps I did get carried away...” Sybil trails off, no guilt in her voice.

Red ends up blushing, covering her mouth. “I didn’t mean.. I’m so sorry, I hadn’t meant it in that way-”

Sybil pretends to be hurt waving her off. “No no, it’s fine-”

“Stop,” the other woman giggles, letting her shoulders relax. “Really, it has been a great night. I had been so nervous the entire day but everyone here is so pleasant and so lively. If someone didn’t like my performance I wouldn’t have been able to tell.”

“Red, you are very funny,” Sybil gracefully covers her chuckle behind her hand. “There wasn’t a single person that didn’t like your singing. Did you see all of those people that stood up? Those are your future admirers,”

She smirks, bright blue eyes locking with Sybil’s before glancing away. “You seem so sure.”

Sybil offers her hand. Red takes it, setting down the small platter. “Of course I am. There has never been anything that I wouldn’t be sure of. Now come on, everyone on this floor is dancing and I’ve been wondering if you can dance as well as you can sing.”

* * *

“Like a bunch of teenagers.” Asher scolds himself, trying to smooth down his hair. It became unruly after Grant had his hard grip on it.

“It must be great to feel young.” Grant comments wistfully, adjusting his collar and his tie to hide any blemishes.

Asher sighs, seeing that there was no hope for his hair. “No one saw us get in?”

“No,” Grant presses a sweet kiss to the darker man’s cheek and turned him around to help pet down his hair. “It isn’t like we did anything. A few kisses here and there.”

“This isn’t a game of seventh heaven,” Asher chuckles, letting out a breath. “Still, anyone could have gotten the wrong idea. I thought we were all trying to stay low on any radar?”

“We are my dear. Come on,” Grants holds on to Asher’s hand, entering one of the many full rooms. “Would you want me to get you something to drink? I”m sure there is a seat somewhere.”

Asher briefly bounces to the tip of his toes (which Grant totally found adorable) and squints through the crowd. “Seats over there by those two paintings. I’ll save them for us. alright?”

After getting a confirming nod from Grant, Asher went off to see if he could save those two seats on time.

“Thank you,” Asher greets, reaching out for one of the champagne glasses Grant came back with. The elder man sits with his husband, arm around his shoulders. “We really don't have to be here.”

“We told Sybil we would be here, didn't we?” Grant reminds, turning his head as he saw a group of young guests laugh after dropping a glass.

“That’s right,” Asher nods, trailing of to take a quiet sip of his glass. “I should blame myself for underestimating the number of people that were to come. At least the event is being held inside the building instead of out.”

* * *

“It’s a shame,” Sybil sighs, helping Red with her coat. “I hope to see you very soon.”

“Of course,” she nods quickly, buttoning up the bright yellow buttons. “I apologize for leaving early, I hadn’t imagined meeting someone this interesting. It was quite the pleasure, Sybil.”

Sybil leans against the door right after Red left, looking absolutely love stricken and totally denying it. She had gotten Red’s contact information and honestly that had been her goal for the night. She then decided she suddenly wouldn’t mind leaving. She decides to round up the other, pulling out her tablet sending a message to the three of them to get ready to leave.

The event was no way near to being over but she didn't care much. She isn’t the hostess, just the organizer for this one.

Sybil briefly gives a look around, knowing very well that despite how much the three men most likely hadn’t wanted to be here, they would take their dear time.

“Oh,” she sniffs, making a face at the sudden smell of smoke. It’s not that she didn’t tolerate it… she’d just think that the guests here would have more self control or-- are those cigarette butts?

Oh she would _love_ to have a word with this mysterious smoker. She refused to have her organized event be criticized over some litter she had been completely unaware of.

She squints up ahead, feeling a slight chill in this room in particular. Did anyone not notice? Were they too senseless with champagne to feel even the slightest change… probably.

Ah… it was the slide door to the terrace. Who the hell would just step out in the snowy mess that was outside- oh.

With a disgruntled sound Sybil quickly makes her way to the slide door, picking up her gown to avoid tripping her it in her rush.

“Honey? Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Royce glances back at her, slightly surprised. His hair and dark blue dress shirt was covered in flakes of white snow. His white blazer was carelessly tied around his waist, body bent forward as he rested against the strong balcony of the terrace.

Sybil crosses over, body tense from the sudden cold. She rubs at her bare arms. “Did you get my message? We’re leaving. Back to Grant’s place.”

Royce blows smoke from his lips. Around his feet were at least three or four scraped cigarette butts. “Let’s get going,” but he doesn’t move.

“That isn’t a stain on your- damn it, Royce, those are a rental. Come on, come on, let’s go. Why did you come out here of all places?”

“Too hot in there,” he answers. “So noisy… crowdy… crowded..” he throws the cigarette over the balcony.

“Are you lightweight?” she grins, grabbing his hand to pull him. “Too hot?- your hands are freezing. You’re a little more than tipsy. Not that you’ve changed much from your usual self, I swear.” she teases, finally getting him inside.

* * *

Grant and Asher wait at the lobby of the manor, already suited up with their coats and gloves.

“We’ve been here for a few minutes Could Sybil have forgotten her own messages?”

“Very funny.”

Speaking of the devil.

“I thought you two were going to take your dear time. Doing husband things like helping the other put on their coats and scarves,” she was both seriously and making fun of them at the same time and Asher glances away because _damn_ she was right on point about that.

“Would have taken longer if I hadn’t found Royce. It’s like bringing along a child,” she nudges him and makes a noncommittal sound, his usual hard gaze replaced with something more distant or thoughtful.

“Mhm,” he responds, hands fidgeting in his pocket. “We were leaving, weren’t we?”

Grant nods, eyebrows raised in amusement. He’s known Royce long enough to notice when the other was trying to stand straight and not sway. Grant places a hand on the small of his back to direct him outside, “You’re right, we’re going to do that now.”

Sybil raises an arm, giving Asher a sweet look. “Royce stole your date.”

“Did he?” he gave her a look to humor her before he hooks his arm with hers. “I’ll let him just this once.”

“My my, you have such an open mind,” She’s bringing the collar of her coat up to her chin to avoid feeling the chill of wind on her neck. “And us? Are we going?”

Asher nods, leading the two of them out of the lobby door. “For the good of Cloudbank we are getting the hell away from this party.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sybil's intention was to be out with the rest of the group for the night but... she rather much get Red's digit's## you know what I'm saying.
> 
> ALSO Red's singing actress sang an acoustic version of "We All Become" live on stage sooo that was the version of the song she was singing in the fic. If you're curious just give it a listen https://youtu.be/KudXO0DO04U?t=5m42s


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extra: what they looked like at the party basically

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took me two weeks jeeesus (mainly because i was suffering on what started on a 1,000 worded fic to a 10,000 worded fic whoops

 

hit me up and give it a like on tumblr? :') ([link here](http://teneki.tumblr.com/post/126141171143))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally FINAlly i am done i have been freed


End file.
